


Decisions, Decisions

by SmartassUndertheMountain



Series: Some Kings are Sweet [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Comfort, Dinner, Engagement, F/M, Fluff, Frustration, No Smut, Reader-Insert, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:43:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartassUndertheMountain/pseuds/SmartassUndertheMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Thorin have been engaged for a while and the wedding planning has begun, which mostly consists of you being dragged around for hours by Thrain and your father, making decisions. Thorin tries to make it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions, Decisions

             You walked into the small private dining room of Prince Thorin. The table was set beautifully, with candles lighting the room and your handsome prince waiting your arrival.

            “I was beginning to think you were lost,” Thorin smiled as he rose to greet you. You shared a hug, but you didn’t let go, even when you knew he was ready sit and eat.

            “Bad day?” He kept his arms wrapped around you, squeezing gently to let you know that he would hold you as long as you wanted.

            “Our fathers picked out flowers for the wedding, for _four hours_. I didn’t even know there were that many kinds of flowers in Middle Earth. Eventually they all look and smell the same. I have no idea what they chose, and frankly, I don’t care.”

            “Mmmmmm, sounds like you need a good meal and some company that won’t waste your time.”

            “That would be lovely. Know where I can find that?”

            “Actually, I know this prince, he’s a little gruff and rough around the edges, but he doesn’t squander the precious moments of a beautiful lady’s time.”

            You leaned back to see him smiling down at you, his two more inches of height making it feel like he towered over you when you stood so close. “The most precious stones are rough,” you whispered. Looking into his eyes you saw the joy your words gave him. “So when do I get to meet this gruff prince?”

            He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against your lips. “You just did, My Dear.”

            “That was too gentle of a kiss for it to have come from a gruff prince. That kiss came from a sweet and loving prince.”

            “Mmmmm,” he hummed low and you could feel the vibration in his chest. “You’ll see the rougher side one day,” his voice was full of innuendo and there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

            “Promise?”

            “I promise, Y/N. Now let’s eat.”

            Dinner was wonderful. You sat side by side and talked about the boring parts of your day. He told you about council meetings and you told him about the flowers and the music selections. You’d finished eating and now you were just holding hands. The conversation had died down into comfortable silence and you sat looking at your fiancé. Smiling to yourself you leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. You really were exhausted.

            You felt his hand stroke your hair as he began whispering to you in Khuzdul. “Rest, My Dear. Tomorrow is another day, and you must be ready for it. Sleep, my little book-keeper, and dream of sweet things.”

            Even though you were proud of your dwarfish heritage, only Thorin could make Khudzul sound beautiful. His deep voice whispering the complicated words was like poetry to you.

            You were almost asleep when you heard a doorknob turn and you sat up straight, just in time to see your brother Balin enter. 

            “Evening sister, evening brother-to-be,” his greeting was cheerful, but his walk was hesitant.

            “Balin, what do you want?” Your eyebrow was raised, demanding and answer.

            “Does a brother need a reason to visit his two favorite dwarves?”

            “Yes,” you and Thorin answered in unison, causing Balin to sigh.

            “I regretfully inform you that Thrain and Father require your presence for the selection of fabrics for your wedding gown.”

            “No,” you turned to Thorin. “I’m not going. I’ve already spent all day with them. Since six this morning, Thorin. That’s fourteen hours. I refuse to spend my evening – which was supposed to be with you - picking out fabrics with our fathers.” You were adamant. You were not requesting, you were flat out telling.

            Thorin kept a straight face, but he was smiling on the inside. ‘Finally,’ he thought ‘standing up to our fathers as she does to her brothers and me.’ He considered the situation for a moment. As much as he loved your strong independence, he knew what would happen if the decision were left to the two patriarchs. “If you don’t go then you will have no say, and there is no telling what you will be wearing when you walk down the aisle.”

            You sighed and nodded in agreement. You hated to admit it, but you knew he was right. You wanted to look beautiful when you walked towards him on your wedding day, that wouldn’t happen if Thrain and your father picked your dress fabric and pattern.

            “Tell them I will be there shortly,” you told Balin, who nodded and slipped quietly out of the room, closing the doors behind him. You let your head rest against your arms on the table, dread filling you completely. Then you felt a strong hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to stand, which you did, though somewhat reluctantly.

            “Would it be any better if I went with you?”

            “You would help me select the pattern and fabric of my wedding gown? You don’t think it’s bad luck?”

            “Only men believe in that superstition, and I will not let you suffer alone with our overly excited fathers,” he placed one hand on your cheek and you leaned into his touch. “If you want me there, that is.”

            “I would love for you to be there,” your soft voices made the room feel cozy and the moment more intimate. Thorin took one tiny step forward and placed his lips against yours, his hand guiding your face to meet his. As always the kiss was gently and chaste, very appropriate for a prince and his betrothed, though you were both left wanting more.

            “The sooner we get down there, the sooner it will be over,” he took your arm and laced it through his own and began leading through the halls of Erebor.

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely readers that requested a continuation of my last gentle Thorin fic, I hope you like this! I own nothing of Middle Earth of it's inhabitants, just this specific combination of words. Feeback/comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Slightly edited because I realized I had written "Thror" when I meant to write "Thrain." I just to imagine that Thrain would get really excited about Thorin's wedding (kind of like the mother of the bride typically would). Other than that name change it remains unedited. Enjoy!


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